With the Tides
by PunkiiRose
Summary: Abducted and confused, Bella tries to puzzle together why she's been kidnapped from a life she thought she knew; forced into playing houseguest to the sarcastic, unreadable Edward Cullen, a man with many secrets yet one who gives very few answers. When you can't find your way home, and are lost even to yourself, simply go with the tides.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Welcome back ;) **

**I own few things, and these characters aren't one of 'em. M for the future and naughty language.**

1

I used to have nightmares every night as a child, for about three years. Three years of fear and paranoia, of drenched bedclothes and empty hours of restlessness, and those three years meant more to me than anything else in my life.

There were dreams of me drowning; whether in a bath, a pool, or the ocean; the lake, a river, or a puddle. It never mattered. It made no difference where I was, who I was with, how many people watched, I always died. A few weeks after the nightmares began I would cower from the water. I was in hysterics when commanded to bathe. Beach and public pool visits would have been laughable, if I hadn't been blind and dehydrated by the panic attack I got from thinking about them.

The nightmares—and the affect they'd begun to have on me—were not to my shock alone, at the time. My father, an offhand, tolerant man, didn't understand how or why I was the way I was, but he was understanding nonetheless. My mother…

My mother was the lead director of a very successful, very well-known business—still is—and she hadn't gotten that position by nonchalance. She liked order. She liked control. She liked to know that even if something was going unpredictably south, she could still grab it by the reins and steer it back in her path of efficiency, and she had an impressive track record.

She didn't take it well that I had been her one failure.

She told me so.

I felt it.

A white light sliced into the rear of the cargo ship I was folded into, making me bow my head into my lap. Gruff, impatient voices drifted into the dark, cramped space, one harsher and deeper than the rest. That was the one, I could tell, whose boots clanked against the cold metal as it approached me.

I was unsure of why I was reminded of all those ages ago. It was 12 years later now, and I had so far done my deed in suppressing those demons. I reached down deep, picked up the reins that my mother had abandoned, and once again encased my fears behind their yellow tape.

"Good trip?"

My head raised, eyes scrunched, one more so than the other. I couldn't make out anything but black mass against bright light.

"I won't ask again," the mass said disapprovingly, "so feel free to speak."

I had nothing to say. I wouldn't be here if they gave a damn about how I felt about it.

"Stubborn, this one."

"Bit o' trouble, she was. Not very coop'rative." The thin hairs on my arm stood at attention at that voice. "Had to rough her up a li'l," he tittered. "Shame—pretty thing."

"Hmm. Yes." One long finger tipped my chin up. I was a bit thankful that the cargo ship's brightness contrasted so drastically with that of outside. The longer I was blind, the less real all of this seemed. I felt the pad of another finger skate over my cheek, making me shrink a bit. "She's a very pretty thing. But this is a very ugly bruise. Do you mind, Turo?" The mass's head swerved to ask his silent question.

"Of course, ser."

The chill didn't hit my naked arms until the echo of my attacker's footsteps accorded with the dull push of the waves on the ship's hull. My shoulders tensed, and my jaw, still being held up by the black mass, tensed as well. There was no way of knowing—his face was still turned to behind him—but my skin sparked and iced over as if his eyes had suddenly slunk over my face.

The newest, but more familiar figure stepped beside the first.

"Yes, ser?"

"Any trouble grabbing her?" black mass inquired patiently. The question didn't seem like what it was. It felt more like he was looking to be assured that his unstated assumption was correct. I recognized the quality of it.

"None, ser. Tiny enough thing, didn't even need David and me both to cradle 'er."

"Did anyone see?"

"David handled anyone he suspected, ser."

"Did you ID them?"

"N…no, ser."

I think mister mass nodded.

"How did you handle the blanketing?"

"Fu… I…. _We… _David and Iforgot to blanket the home, ser."

If black mass had any issues with this he didn't show it.

"Right then. We all make mistakes, Turo." My face was released, and black mass's hand outstretched to clap my attacker on the back. It didn't escape my notice that the shorter man cringed forward a bit. "No hurt feelings, my friend."

His relief was audible. "Thank ye, ser. If it's quite alright with you, ser, I'd like to take the rest of my day down to the pubs. Days of pet duty on the sea with a temptress like tha' screwed a few nails too tight," he said in a laugh.

I don't think he received the answer he was looking for. I watched as the short man waited for a response to his request, and after a very awkward moment of nothing, my attacker's laugh shriveled into a dry, tense cough that seemed to have dropped to the cold steel between us all. It almost felt like if I looked hard enough I could see it curl into its own death.

"By all means, Turo," black mass finally said. "You've worked hard. You deserve some respite."

The short man turned to go.

"But, one final request before I let you go." The man clapped once, a swing of his arms together that made him seem carefree and relaxed. "Down on the deck of the vessel, bring me the white tube of ointment in the first aid, would you?"

A minute or so passed, black mass and I waiting in silence for his request to be filled, and the short man returned with his bidding.

"Could I trouble you to apply it to her eye, Turo?"

"No trouble at all, ser."

The tension that never quite left my body from before rose up above the surface of my skin and hardened. It wasn't wise to cause any trouble, but I was ready for even a slight hint of weakness.

My attacker approached, one finger out to squeeze the ointment out onto, and he dropped the tube into his pocket as he roughly grabbed my face and held me up for examination. His finger just barely glanced my skin, and before he could apply any pressure, a torrent of thick, viscous liquid poured onto my cheek, down my jaw, into the front of my shirt…

I didn't scream, and neither did he.

It felt like a lifetime passed as I looked into this Turo's eyes, as I watched the life slowly drain from the shadows of his face, and when it seemed that he was wrung completely of it all he slouched at the waist, his head making a weighty thud beside my own.

Another lifetime passed, and the body finally fell over.

One more lifetime went by, and I registered the sun slinking low over the black and blue water before me. I curled my toes into the sand below. It was strange, this sense of familiarity.

Things that I hadn't felt since my days as a child reached out from beneath my skin and wrapped around me in a cold embrace.

It was like a pressure slowly bearing down on my chest, adding to my weight, slowing down my footsteps. It gripped me tight and caressed my spine with a chill; and drops of ice, fear and helplessness dripped down my back, added to the weight in my feet. I inhaled the salty air but my lungs seemed to hold half their capacity. A bottle of water was placed in my limp hand.

My eyes lifted high enough to see black mass's knees but could go no further. I found he wasn't quite so dark and ominous in the creamy orange of a sunset. I couldn't care what he looked like right then though—I just wanted to breathe normally again.

"Drink."

I did. A sip.

"You're weak," he said. I couldn't even find it in me to give him some snide remark. "You look underfed and under slept. You are dirty, your muscles are close to nonexistent, you look like you've been hit by a bus and ran over a few extra times for good measure, and you stink. My name is Edward Cullen, and I am your kidnapper. For just a little while, I will keep you fed, clean, and healthy. You will have most of the amenities you had back in your normal life, with a few restrictions; maybe even a few more restrictions if you cannot learn to cooperate.

"You may be thinking to yourself, 'Who are you,' or 'Why kidnap me,' and as for the latter, the answer is pretty simple: you have money. A lot of it that you probably don't need. As for the need to identify me, we've gone over this part already; be sure to keep up. Get comfortable with my name—I'll be your only company for quite some time. Now that we've gotten to know each other a little better, I can't help but let you know how well the color of blood suits you."

Now where did I go from here?


	2. Chapter 2

2

I'm not sure what I expected in a location that was meant to hold kidnap victims, but it certainly wasn't the splendor of an Italian villa. Ironic that I would be smuggled somewhere that made my house look like a shed.

"Shoes." The imposing man pointed a finger at the hitch of wall near the front door. I slipped out of my sneakers and followed him into the massive front room. I sat on the thick, plush sectional sofa he directed me to and took a moment to assess my surroundings as he walked into the open kitchen behind me. I heard him run the tap and rustle around for things in the pantries.

He came back around with a slightly steaming towel and dropped it into my lap. My face must've said something I did not.

"You have blood on your face."

Oh.

Right.

There was a slight pause in doing so, but I opened up the wet towel and scrubbed. When I thought I was finished I folded up the dirtied cloth in half and handed it back to him without looking at it. He scrunched it up like a paper ball and lobbed it behind him, folding into the living chair across from me. He looked so…imperious. It could have been the casual but somehow calculated way he was sitting; leaned back with his arms stretched along the back, one leg folded up above the other's knee.

Or it could have been the acuate gaze he had directed at me. His eyes were a disturbing balance of a beatific and stunning green, and paralyzing stygian black. It was like looking down unto a sprawling forest where the sun bounced from the leaves, but knowing full well that below there were deep endless chasms of nothingness.

"Hungry?" His voice, as well, had the two-toned quality.

I swallowed, curling my fingers a bit tighter around my bottle of water, then unscrewed the cap for a swallow before answering, "A bit."

"What for?"

"Pardon?"

"What are you hungry for?" he asked with a slight incline of his head. Tension formed in my brows.

"Does my answer really matter right now?"

"Yes, unless you're not picky about what's given to you."

"I'm not." My voice had an edge to it, an insinuating one.

"Steak then. I have a taste for it tonight."

_Is this a joke?_ My eyebrows were in danger of joining at this rate.

"Why?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why do you ask?"

His tone made it seem as if I were foolish for asking. "Because I wouldn't be a very courteous host if I didn't. You can freshen up in your room while I get dinner together. Lucky bird, you got the one with the Jacuzzi tub in the en-suite." He'd the nerve to wink. "That brand's bubble jets are enviable."

Censure flared hot in my chest, my throat; my eyes stung with it. "You should know that I don't find you funny, Mr. Cullen."

"I'm heartbroken." It was said conventionally but I sensed condescension.

"You likely had no heart to begin with."

He feigned surprise. "A man not only asks what you'd like to eat as a guest in his home, but offers to cook you a steak, and you call him heartless?"

"Said same man is a kidnapper, and a _murderer_." The word fell from my mouth like a disease. "Heartless is the kindest word for you."

"That is your opinion and I accept that." He nodded once, then stood and hustled about the sectional back to the kitchen, completely dropping the conversation, giving me his back. "Have a look around, enjoy the view. Your room is the biggest to our right. Get comfortable. And clean. I'll buzz your room when the table is set."

I sat there, staring at his back for a minute or two as he completely ignored me, before I stood on dead legs and walked blindly to our right.

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><p><strong>AN: This one is rather short so I'll be posting another chapter later tonight. Thank you for taking the time to give this a try**** :)****.**


	3. Chapter 3

3

The villa was fabulous.

Dutch white walls, shiny brown wood floors, wide arched doorways and two-story windows, and huge floor spaces.

I scoped out "my room" the second I closed the door. Tasteful oak furniture, a massive bed, and more windows were the fruits of my search. Everything was big and available to the eye. Unless I were to acquire a chainsaw and dismember the posts of the bed frame I had nothing to protect myself with. Not against a gun.

I had also tried the two glass-paned doors in the hallway that led to my room. Not only did they not budge but the doorknobs had some sort of warm vibrations in the handles. Objectively, it was possible but much too obvious to break the windows out and run. Where would I go? The only way I got here was through two days on a dank boat with the smell of salt and rust.

And what would happen if _he_ caught me? If someone else beside him found me?

I was a smart girl, and infinitely patient. I learned to be a long time ago.

For now, there was no need to panic or act drastically—that was a fool's game. When you have no plan and nowhere to go, the best thing to do was wait. I couldn't verify that what lay out there was any better than what I had at my disposal in here. There was apparently food here, water, a bed, and I hadn't tested the limits of the Mr. Edward Cullen that kept me captive; and so I would play on my best behavior and wait. I started with bathing.

Standing in the decadent shower of porcelain and black stainless steel, I closed my eyes and scrubbed. Mr. Cullen was, so far, amiable enough. And dangerous. Very, very dangerous.

Anyone who could shoot a man point-blank and not blink twice at it was someone to be cautious around, as that obviously wasn't the first time he'd had to do so. All I wanted to know, really, was why me. _I_ wasn't rich._ I_ had no connections to anyone. I didn't know too many people, and whoever I did know didn't seem like bad people.

But my mother….

I shut the water off and stood in the steam and heat for a moment, just staring into the drain.

If this was about my mother, then all bets were off. She was a woman of little to no debts, but pretty powerful as well, and one doesn't claim power without stepping on a few toes.

I made it my business to stay out of her business. Any dealings she was in I was ultimately oblivious to since the day I was born, by choice. But television and the media loved to paint pictures of corrupt businessmen who dealt in the shadows. What if this wasn't unalloyed gossip? I speculated on this as I looked through the hangars of clothes in the closet of the bedroom.

As the woman in charge, she could have pissed off any number of people. Fired someone, hired someone, docked their pay, insulted their sister—an infinite amount of things, really, and none that I would put past her. She liked to make the tough decisions, and she handled them so ice-cool-y you'd think she made a hobby to crush people's spirits. Maybe one of those, or even a couple of those people wanted to get back at her.

Or, she started a business monopoly that hindered the wrong people. That man in charge wanted her to knock it off, she refused, and I'm meant to be some big piece in changing her mind.

She could, although hard to believe, owe someone a lot of money, and I was the leverage for it. She pays, or I do.

As promised, I heard a soft buzzing go off outside the bathroom door. That would be dinner.

Okay.

I'd chosen the more casual pieces provided for me. A pair of deep blue jeans and a white long sleeve. Tasteful, sociable, unassuming. I put my hair up in a rubber band, found one pair of flats out of twenty on the shoe rack.

This was clearly something premeditated, my being here. Clothing my size, shoes that fit, toiletries I've purchased in the past. I was more impressed at the research done than disturbed. It would be bad taste and too predictable to bring me here with scraps to wear, smelling of my own filth in some underground hostel or something.

That was how one would think a kidnapping would go, and so far, my past two days have gone nothing as I could have foreseen.

I would be grateful for it all. I would take advantage of everything and look closely at nothing but my captor, because there was every chance in the world that this could have turned out a lot differently. That they still could.

Patience. Infinite patience.

I opened the door to the hall and looked up into Mr. Cullen's piercing green stare.

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><p><strong>AN: Thank you for the time :).**


	4. Chapter 4

4

Thank you, again, for dinner.

Shit.

I just wanted to, you know, show gratitude for you taking the time to cook and all.

Nope.

Thanks.

Ugh.

If he weren't staring me down I would have printed my forehead with the palm of my hand. It might have been my mind seeing the cynical but he looked almost amused.

How did one show appreciation to another—who was very much responsible for kidnapping said person—for making them a steak?

They don't.

Because it doesn't happen.

Shit.

"Something you'd like to get off your chest over there, Ms. Swan?"

"No. Thank you." I sat stiffly, shoulders hunched inward as I glared at the mostly empty plate on the table. There was a 'thank you' in there at least.

From my peripheral, I saw him put his elbow unto the table and lean his chin into his hand. "Did you enjoy your steak?" No imagining it now—there was definitely amusement.

I shrugged. Truth be told, it'd been fabulous. Murderers knew how to season their meat.

"Have you had your fill?"

I shrugged again. This was pitiful; I was acting like a child.

I slackened my posture and rose my eyes to his.

"No, I'm full. It was delicious, Mr. Cullen. Thank you."

He blinked once, taking his time. "You're welcome."

A long moment passed. The sitting room's patio doors had been opened to the cool night air and the white curtains along the windows billowed towards us. My hair, now a bit frizzy from being air dried, wafted across my face, and I pushed the wayward strands behind my ear. He was very unnerving, this man. Every move I made, every shallow breath I took, I knew he noticed, and it was almost as if he were taking notes with his eyes, writing down every little detail until he could rebuild me from his own memory.

I shuddered.

"Are you cold, Ms. Swan?"

"No."

His voice, as well, had a disquieting deliberateness to it. There was a deep, disciplined tone to it. Everything he said, in every way he said it, meant something.

Or I was becoming so obsessed with him that I was coloring in lines that were never drawn.

I was being ridiculous. I'd yet to ask him anything, I'd yet to learn anything, but I was making studies of him in my mind. It had always been in my nature to scope out the whole of something before getting involved. I was out of my element here. I'd no choice if I wanted to take part in this or not.

I steeled myself. The faster this was out of the way, the faster I was home, away from this evil.

"Mr. Cullen, may I be frank?"

"You don't quite suit me as a frank, Ms. Swan."

Give me strength.

"I'll need a moment to clean up. Have a seat in the big room. Close the doors if you have a chill."

I sat myself in the plushest living chair that had ever been made. It was what I imagine millionaires bought for their house pets. I left the windows open, taking in big lungful's of air until the mister found himself, once again, across from me, staring me down and waiting for what I had to say.

"On your mark."

I cleared my throat.

"I would like to go home, please, Mr. Cullen. As soon as possible."

"No." I wasn't slow; what kind of prank would this be if all I had to do was ask? _I know it took two days and blank amounts of money to hire the boat, the henchmen, and rent out this villa to hold me in, but could I go home now? It was fun while it lasted._ Yeah, no. Segue—it was all about segue. "Is that all you wanted to talk about?"

"Is there a reason I am here, Mr. Cullen? Is there something you need or want from me?" I tried going for a confident front, but ended up falling straight on my face. "Because if it's money you need, I'm as lower middle class as it gets. You probably know all about my mother but I have nothing—not a single penny—from her bank accounts."

"That's not exactly—"

"And I would hardly go well for barter, I'll have you know. We aren't close and I may be her child but I can't promise you that she'll shell out whatever it is you're demanding, which is a lot, I'd say, because kidnap isn't a four-finger act."

"Barter is the least o—"

"But who am I to lecture you on kidnapping? This clearly isn't your first time, and you know what you want. I'm the one in the dark here. The one who was brutalized into a fucking pick-up truck and held at gunpoint. The one shoved into a boat going God-knows where, ending up on some unknown island where any and everything can happen by some piece of shit with a God-complex thinking he can control people's lives."

"Watch it, Miss. Swan."

"Fuck you, Mr. Cullen."

In saying this, I was making the first of a few very bad decisions.

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><p><strong>AN: Godammit, Bella. **

**I don't have a specific schedule for releasing these, but at this rate I would say I will be updating daily. Thank you for taking the time :)**


	5. Chapter 5

"_Fuck you, Mr. Cullen."_

As I watched the man across from me rise to his feet, I realized that I not only forgot how many times he dwarfed me in size, but what situation I was in, as well as what situation I was currently putting myself into.

His face was of something I'd seen before, on my mother, when I told her I didn't love her the way I loved my father some eons ago. I couldn't have been more than six, and it was while we were on vacation in some place or another. She couldn't have left work at home in Jersey, like I believed she should have, and flew down a couple of her business partners to discuss things my mind couldn't wrap around. I was upset she didn't seem to care that I existed, that she didn't spend any time with daddy and I, and I said such a stupid thing to her, in the middle of a dinner with her coworkers nonetheless.

At the time—and even now, every here and again—I hadn't thought saying that to her was foolish of me. I couldn't fathom that she was prone to emotions that normal people felt. In any case, she gave as good as she got. She set down her fork and knife, looked into my eyes with her blue empty ones, and said that I could not love her equally to my father because I was her failure, not his.

And she continued to eat.

That crushing, lost feeling I felt beat icily in my heart was much like what I felt now.

Something about seeing how little I meant to others in their eyes got to me every time.

"Stand up, Miss Swan."

There was nothing going on behind my eyes besides what I was told to do. I could almost hear wind echoing around in my head. I erected myself from the chair, and somehow managed to decrease further in comparison to him.

"We are done here. See yourself to your room, please."

My hesitation was blind and swiftly dealt with by Mr. Cullen's dangerous growl of, "Now," before I was sprinting to "my room" and slamming the door closed with my back against it.

Through the windows and under the luminescence of the moon, I saw the waves crashing up against tall, jagged rocks that wrapped around my view of the shore; it felt like a pointed reminder that there was nowhere for me to go, nowhere to run.

My only natural response was to curl into a ball and fall asleep.

…

Along with the sun in my eyes, a heavy knock on the door greeted me the next morning.

"Be in the front room in ten minutes or less. I'm waiting."

I didn't want to move until I heard footsteps retreating, but the sound never came and it seemed a bad idea to test the time I was given, especially with my previous performance.

I took a bleary eyed shower, wherein I once-overed with soap and let the water do the rest, and dressed in pajama bottoms and the same white long sleeve from the day before. His back was to me when I entered the main room. I took a seat.

"Food will be sent here once a week. Compile a list of what it is you think you'd like to have throughout the week and write it down here. Dinners, sides, snacks, breakfast cereal and sweets—anything. If it pops up in your head and you eat it, write it down."

I did as I was told.

As every second ticked by I became increasingly aware of my captor. It was as if I could sense all of the energy in the room and I was watching as the area was steadily pervaded by his presence. I did not know what to think of him at this moment. He was dangerous—of that there was no doubt—but he hadn't quite yet showed me his hand. Despite my loss of temper and sense last night, he showed nothing more than irritation and undoubtable dominance. He knew he was the man in charge, that he didn't need to take any of my shit, but he'd done it without much more than tone.

I cursed myself to the moon and back for thinking so, but I desperately wanted to know Mr. Cullen's limits were.

How far would he go to keep me here? How far would I have to knock before his shell cracked, and what would I find underneath? I was in no rush to uncover the beast's ugly head, but I needed to see for myself just what kind of monster I was working with.

"What do you drink?"

"Beg pardon?" My voice had less emotion than I felt. Which was saying something.

"What drinks do you prefer? Juice?"

"Yes."

"Coffee?"

"Yes."

"Tea?"

"Sometimes."

"Alcohol?"

I shrugged. "Not choosy."

He nodded once and gave me his back again as he scribbled something in the notepad in his hand. It was almost comical how tiny it looked in his grasp.

"What kinds?" he asked, turning to face me again. I opened my mouth to speak but he cut me off. "Never mind. I'll get a few of anything I can think of." He was more thinking aloud to himself than to me.

I decided to bite the bullet. "About yesterday…"

"Drop it. It didn't happen."

My face drew surprise.

"Regardless, I still apologize for my behavior."

"Noted."

Frustration knit my brow, but I accepted his shrug off of yesterday and let it be. "Does this mean the discussion of yesterday is still off the table?" I ventured.

His reply was off by only a second. "That depends. Are we staying within our boundaries this time?"

I grumbled, "No promises."

"I heard that."

"Fine; yes." I finished off my list and set it on the glass coffee table in front of me. I'd honestly not really been paying attention to what I wrote. I simply named a couple dozen random foods and ingredients that made a blip in my train of thought. I was pretty sure Brussel sprouts were on that list. I didn't like Brussel sprouts. "Again, sorry for…snapping at you last night. Stress, ya know?"

He'd turned to face me, but only raised one finely arched brow in response. He knew there was something up my sleeve, which, ironically, there was. I'd flipped the pen up my long sleeve and had my hand rested on my knee, keeping the offending instrument out of view. I had no real clue what I was going to do with it. Genius it would be, I thought, if I could incapacitate my captor with nothing more than a ball point pen and make my daring escape. That would be a tale to tell, for sure.

I sighed. "Would you mind having a seat?" I didn't like the idea of him standing above me in this circumstance, looking down on me.

"If you've something to say, Miss Swan, the last thing you should be concerned with is my comfort."

Believe me, it is.

"I want to talk about my leaving, or lack thereof. I don't belong here."

"I would disagree."

"That is your opinion, and I respect that," I said turning his words against him, "but why? How much are you planning to make off of me, because when this is all over you are going to be _sorely _disappointed."

An ominous half-smiled curved his mouth. "I'd like to raise a bet holding you to that. There are more than a few ways of bleeding my money."

The blood had drained from my face in the space of a heartbeat. That undeniable heat of adrenaline swelled in my joints. I was never one to make risky decisions but his words made it seem more of a necessity than a notion.

A fierce, "What do you want?" crept from my mouth, and I flexed my finger around the pen in my lap. He would win, of that there was no question, but damn if I made it so easy for him.

"What I want," he said, and there was a look in his eye, on the set of his mouth, "What I want, is for you to take a moment and think to yourself, 'Is this really something I want to try right now?'"

A dark, spine chilling seriousness ossified his already sharp features and saturated his tone. I felt like a lamb taunting a lion. I could go for the spring and try to get away, but would it be over when he caught me?

_Was _this something I was willing to try?


	6. Chapter 6

6

In reality, not a single day had passed since I arrived in this place, but in my mind it felt like a battle I was fighting for weeks.

It was because I was always thinking ahead, always thinking for the future.

_What would happen if I ran at night? If I broke through the window? If I killed him in his sleep? If I got away and ran into his henchmen? If I ran away and ran into no one?_

There are so many possible outcomes when you are not the one in control. So many rampant thoughts, so many barbaric ideas. There were moments when I believe that Edward would drop his amiable façade and become something warped and twisted, that he would make me into the same thing. Then there are moments when I'd think I'm paranoid and I should just continue to play on my luck. After all, I have been offered many amenities that, while they make no sense, are more than enough to keep me alive and healthy. Why would I jeopardize that?

But then again, why should I become placated with these things.

At the end of the day, though my belly would be full and my skin unmarred, I was still stolen property.

Property of myself.

For as long as I was living under this man's roof, eating his food, sleeping in his bed, I was placing myself further and further away from the fact that I didn't belong here.

And that thought made me clench the pen tighter between my fingers. It was in human nature to survive, to _fight_. And I would damn sure survive.

"I'm sure it's crossed your mind more than once that continuing on in this way will not end well for you, Miss Swan."

I added mind reader to my very short list of things I knew about him.

Following a swallow, I responded, "It has."

His head tilted just a bit to the side as his eyebrow raised. "And you still want to go down this path? My—aren't we the adventurous one."

"I just want to go home."

"I understand that."

"And you won't be standing in my way to get there."

"Tell me, Miss Swan; is it your need to return home that makes you act rashly or your desire to be away from _here_?"

"Does it matter? They are one in the same."

"Oh, but they aren't."

In conversation I'd failed to realize that Mr. Cullen was no longer as many feet away as he had been before. I threw my stabbing arm up cautiously and circled around the sofa to the back. He seemed less than threatened by my pitiful weapon but he hadn't come any closer so I kept it held at his throat level. He was wearing a black V-neck t-shirt so I had more than a good view of his Adam's apple.

"What do you want, Cullen? No more games, no more bullshit."

His voice had taken on a deep, bass-full hum. "I couldn't have just wanted your company?"

"Mine in particular?" I asked incredulously. "You can fuck right off."

For half a second his eyes narrowed; he seemed irritated by that.

"Suppose you manage to get that pen into me, Miss Swan. What happens afterward?"

"I leave," I said in a tone that emulated an "obviously".

His head leaned to the side. "Where to?" he asked.

"You know where to!" I was becoming cross. I had questions he had yet to answer and the tension of the situation was situating in my hands, shaking the pen between my fingers.

"Humor me." He took an almost indiscernible step forward but I was alert. I raised my slightly jittering hands higher.

"I swear to God, Cullen—"

"Swear what? That you'll stab me with a ball point?"

"You think I won't?" Was he testing me?

"No, I believe you are perfectly capable," he assured me, "I simply wonder how you'll do once it leaves your hands. Will you run straight away? Will you find another weapon? How will this all go down?"

"Come near me and we'll find out."

"Yes we will," he murmured darkly, and somehow I hadn't noticed that all the while he was distracting me—I was suddenly within grappling distance. I just barely made the first move before he did.

I threw my arm out, aiming where I hoped would be a serious artery, and was thwarted instantly. He grabbed hold of my wrist and forced it up high towards his head, causing me to struggle unto the very tips of my toes, pulling me around the couch that had acted as my only barrier between us, right back into his grasp. He drew his free arm back and I thought he would either deliver a devastating blow to my stomach or reach into the back pocket of his jeans, both options sending me into a frenzied panic, grabbing onto his shirt and scaling his big body like some sort of creature, crying and shrieking. I clamped one of my legs on that wayward, worrying arm of his and trapped it between us.

He gave a long, heated grunt, and it was the closest sound to a growl I'd ever heard. I struggled to reclaim my pen hand, bucking and thrashing angrily in hopes to break his grip and take hold of this, but he was an immoveable boulder.

We were moving, fast, and there was suddenly the wall at my back with a hard _thump_; hard enough to wind me but not hurt me. I froze for only a second, but that was all it took for him to dominate me.

He squeezed his fingers tightly around my wrist, and for a mere moment my clutch on the pen slackened, and it fell to the ground behind him. The real threat removed, he pressed hard into a spot in my foot that gave the nerves in my leg a shock, and just like that he had both arms free.

I realized immediately that I had made yet another horrible decision.

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><p><strong>AN: I hope you all are enjoying this as much as I am :) I'm humbled by the time you take to traverse this adventure with me.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A very big thank you to SunflowerFran for helping me with the summary of With the Tides in making it flow more freely. Going in the direction that we are, this story can use as much freedom as it can get.**

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><p>7<p>

The sound of a gun's chamber clicking as close as it was to me was a sound I would never forget as long as I lived—If I were to continue living, that is.

Keeping his eyes riveted to mine, he slid the barrel of a revolver right beneath my chin, slowly, giving a light but firm press of the cold metal to my throat. I barely so much as breathed.

"Was this," he whispered, his breath fanning my cheeks, "one of the outcomes you considered, Miss Swan? Answer me."

"Yes," I breathed back. My heart was going a billion miles a second, slamming against my ribcage. That calm but blazing look in Cullen's eyes added to the equation in a not so helpful way. I knew nothing of what he was thinking, of what he was planning, and that scared me more than the gun.

"Will you do it?" I asked.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Will you shoot me?"

"I'm considering it," he answered, and I didn't think he was employing some kind of scare tactic—I believed him. "Having regrets?"

I gave a short laugh despite myself. "Yeah. Just a little."

"Good. This won't have been for nothing then."

"So you're telling me this was all a ploy to instill me with life lessons?"

"No. I would say it was more the result of a lot of bad choices gravitating to an epicenter: you."

"Care to expand on that further, Mr. Cullen?"

"Not particularly, no." His eyes shifted back to mine, and I hadn't actually realized that they were focused elsewhere. The intensity hadn't once wavered, and I'd retained the feeling that his attention was still dedicated to holding me up to this wall, at gunpoint.

An unmistakable knock hit my ears. My eyes widened to globes.

Cullen sighed quietly to himself, his gaze affixed to my own. There was an embarrassing amount of hope, I knew, in my expression.

"And what is that look for?" he asked with a raised brow.

"What look?"

A chuckle rumbled low in his throat, deep enough for even me to feel. "You're a God awful liar, Miss Swan. Good to see I'll get honesty out of you, if nothing else." He paused after saying this, taking a moment to look me over, his head tilted.

I stiffened instantly. If his mind was anywhere near where I thought it was, then like hell if him holding this gun would stop me from defending myself.

"Easy, kitten. Just making sure I haven't left any visible marks."

Another volley of knocks echoed through the villa. They seemed so loud. As if we were naughty children speaking in a church, Cullen and I had been whispering in rather low tones before our visitor appeared. Although very welcome, the knocks felt out of place.

"Friend of yours?" Whoever it was, they were persistent.

"No," he muttered. "More like a friend of yours."

Cullen began extracting our bodies from one another as I tossed this information around in my head. Of course, thousands of thoughts were flying about in my head, thousands of different scenarios. Nothing got by Cullen's watchful eye.

"I'm more adapted to this expression than any other by now," he said. Dropping the gun, he steadied me onto both feet. He ran his thumb roughly over my wrist, the one he'd had shackled between his fingers, and straightened himself and his clothing. I did the same.

The knock rang out yet again, and we both turned to look at the door. Just looking over Cullen's shoulder, it caught my attention that he seemed a bit annoyed, and in no rush to get the door for whomever was there. A friend of mine, he'd said. Did he mean that literally? Was this someone from my world here to pay a visit? Perhaps they would be the one responsible for my being here. I couldn't fathom who it could have been though. I had a relatively small social circle, and I was hardly exasperating enough to merit a kidnapping.

Whoever this person should be, I believed they had the information that Cullen refused me. He almost seemed like a lost cause to me now. He'd rather shoot me point blank than tell me anything about my situation. The thought made me grimace a bit.

I would be lying if I said I hadn't considered snatching the gun from him.

"If you try it, I _will_ kill you this time." He hadn't even looked at me, but he gave me his back to stride back to the kitchens and rifle through the pantry for a moment. He returned with a bit of duct tape.

"Are you fucking serious?"

"Deadly. Give me your hands."

I muttered, "Like hell—"

"I won't ask you again." No nonsense captor had returned, and with a heavy sigh I held out my wrists together and allowed him to bind me. "If you're a good girl, this will be the extent of your punishment for trying to stick me today. Although, I can't make any promises for tomorrow. I think it would be in your best interest not to find out."

For a moment I was a mildly stunned. I tried to stab him in the Adam's apple and my worst punishment was a bit of duct tape, and not even enough to immobilize me. I wouldn't think about it more than I needed to, but I was expecting much worse. This just made it even more maddening trying to piece Cullen together. Who the hell was he and what did he want?

There went that knock again.

With a heavy exhale Cullen said, "Seems like they aren't going anywhere so I'll have to get that." He hooked his index finger into my restraints and led me to the front door, following his heels. I felt ridiculous, like a dog on a leash with its master. "On our best behavior please, Miss Swan."

"No promises," I grumbled, eager for him to get on with twisting that golden knob he seized.

"Good enough for me."

I gasped when the door opened, and from the corner of my eye I saw Cullen watching me, gauging my reaction.

If I thought I was lost before…

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><p><strong>AN: Who could it be?**


	8. Chapter 8

"Hello, Isabella. It's nice to see you again, as always."

"Alice. I wish I could say the same."

I felt now more than ever that this was all just one nasty practical joke. Still gob smacked I turned to look at Cullen, then back again at my father's personal assistant, hoping to hear an, "April Fool's!" or something of that nature, though last I checked it was the middle autumn, making that highly unlikely.

"You're early," Cullen said, opening the door wide and stepping back to let Alice in. She hadn't changed at all since I last saw her, but I was seeing her with all new vision, it seemed. It was like I didn't recognize her though I'd known her for years.

"I am. I couldn't wait any longer to see how she was doing though." Her eyes hadn't once left me as she came in and shut the door behind her. A rather short but slender woman, Alice reminded me of the fairies you saw in Disney shows. Big, round eyes; sharp looking but somehow still rounded cheeks, and perfectly clear pale skin. Waif-like as she seemed, I sincerely doubted she was here to whisk me away from this place, and that sat with me in a very strange way.

"It's been a while, Bella; how are you?" she asked, smiling with perfectly lined white teeth. It took a moment to find my tongue.

"I've been better." I had a tone. I heard it, and I was just beginning to feel it, the longer I was bound by duct tape while she stood there, smiling and particularly _unbound_.

"I can tell." Her laugh was making me see red. "Did you get my shopping list, Edward?"

"Just about, give me a moment."

He spun to walk back towards the main room, but he continued to keep his finger hooked into my bindings. I was in _no _mood to play docile. Rooting myself to the ground I yanked back hard on my restraints and scowled when he turned to see what my issue was. He gave me a disapproving look.

"I thought we were on our best behavior, Miss Swan," he said.

I came back at him with a hiss. "You can go to hell."

"Bella, please—"

"Don't. Don't you _dare_. What in the _hell_ is the meaning of this, Alice? What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Language, Miss Swan."

"Fuck off!"

"Bella, I know how this may seem but I assure, we have your benefit in mind."

"By kidnapping me and holding me hostage with a murderer!? You think this is in my benefit? He just held me up at gunpoint, Alice! He just threatened to shoot my brains into the ceiling? My _benefit_?" I was shrieking, in a rage unlike anything I'd ever experienced before.

"God sakes, Edward, she's hysterical—do something."

"Don't touch me!"

I tried making myself into a dead weight, just dropping onto the ground, and was met with Cullen's irritated grunt as he was tugged down a tad with me. I fought him for a bit, shirking my hands back kicking him away, but my attacks were completely negated by him. He grabbed onto my bucking ankle and pulled, dragging my body towards him, then caught my other leg when it kicked. With only one hand he managed to undo the belt around his waist and wrap me up into it, trapping my ankles together. I would've been impressed if I weren't fuming.

I struggled like hell, but Cullen had me up and tossed over his shoulder in absolute caveman fashion as he walked into the main room, got our papers, and returned them to Alice, who was staring at me with an unreadable expression. I wanted to grab her by the hair and force her into the very position I was in: lost, humiliated, angry…and scared, hoisted onto some unknown man's shoulder and unsure of what was going to happen next, looking into the eyes of someone you once thought you could trust and seeing a complete stranger.

She took the paper, and was just across the threshold of the front door when she hesitated to look back and say, "I'm so sorry that this turned out this way, Bella."

My skin was hot, my throat was heavy with such built emotion I was breathing in pants, and behind my eyes there was a throbbing pain. I don't know why, but for an inkling of a second I had believed she had come here to save me, that she could somehow wave her arms and say a few words and that would be the end of this whole disconcerting adventure.

That didn't happen.

She wasn't here to help, and that hit me harder than I was expecting.

She wouldn't help me.

This wasn't about to end.

No one had yet to jump up and yell, "April Fool's!" to me.

With all of the fight drained from my body, I lifted my head just a fraction to meet her eyes.

"Go fuck yourself, Alice," I whispered.

And then the door was closed and I was once again left in the unknown.

Why?

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><p><strong>AN: Deeper into the rabbit hole we go!**


	9. Chapter 9

"You need to eat, Miss Swan."

I turned my face further into my pillow, hoping his voice would just be a muffle. It worked decently, and besides the distant surge and crash of the sea on those god forsaken rocks lined on the shore, it was silent.

Without the notice of footsteps or a creak of the floor, a frozen chill stung my skin all over as the blanket I was wrapped in was pulled from my body. I heard it hit the floor.

"I don't like to be ignored, Miss Swan," he said with a deep murmur, "but I do enjoy this view, so I won't be leaving until you get up."

I wasn't one for modesty, but this man made me feel levels above uncomfortable. Without even seeing him I could feel his eyes like a torch on my body, burning me hotter in some places and scorching in others. I was trapped here already, and so far he hadn't made any sexual advances or indications towards me, so I would do my best to keep it that way. I lifted myself up and turned to glare at my intruder as I grabbed the pillow to cover myself. I should have known just locking the door wasn't enough to thwart this man.

"You should eat something," he repeated.

"Not hungry."

"Regardless, you're looking skinnier than when you got here."

"Abduction doesn't agree with my appearance, it seems."

"You'll adapt."

He offered me his hand to get up and with a scoff I slapped it aside, hugging the pillow close as I rose and went to the walk-in closet, and away from his penetrating gaze. I drew the faux-silk curtain over the doorway, dropped the pillow, and sought out dressing. I hadn't been naked, blessedly, when he barged in; but I was very much underdressed. I usually slept in the nude at home, but obviously knowing much better than that I settled for a tank top and underwear in bed, and in bed _only _while I was here.

If he kept up his habits of invasion I would have to sleep in a parka.

It'd been one week since Alice showed up here. One week of deep brain wracking trying to decipher the mystery that was my life currently. Cullen had, since then, been good to me in giving me my space while providing all the necessary things I needed to survive. Much of my time had been attempting to piece him together as well. Figuring out who he was and how he knew Alice; if I had ever met him in the past and not known it, and what he wanted from me, why I was where I was.

I'd barely said a handful of words to him in that time. I'd just been living within myself, with him as an overseer. He hadn't pushed for any interaction of any sort until now.

I was extremely fortunate in that my captor had allowed me at least some degrees of privacy and solace. I had my own room, with a working lock, and he kept his prying to a minimum, only bothering to knock on my door when he'd cooked up dinner, and although the lock was a bit of a farce with his ability to break in at any moment, it gave me a sense of peace. A lot of time was also put into plotting an escape. All that time alone and with my thoughts offered me a pretty good direction of what was where and at what time it was accessible.

All I needed now was the courage and motivation to leave.

That, to anyone _not_ in my position would sound silly, but they weren't in the situation I was. I hedged to bet that if they'd been kidnapped to a place with plentiful choice of food, running water, a sewage system, and no immediate threats to their safety on an unknown island in the middle of God-knew which ocean with a man not threatening to kill and rape them at every turn they wouldn't be in any hurry to be going anywhere.

With all of this in mind, I didn't know if I was willing to make any changes just yet. I would _never _capsize for Cullen, _never_. But would it be so bad to coexist with him until whatever this was passed?

"The food will be cold if you take much longer, Miss Swan."

"You aren't gone yet?" I asked in disbelief as I pulled up a pant leg.

"I wanted to personally see you to the table," he responded. I rolled my eyes with the shake of the head.

"Will you spoon feed me as well?" I asked bitterly.

"Only if you say please."

I emerged from the closet with a frown, and he stepped out of the door with his hand extended towards the hallway to lead me out, closing the door behind me.

The table had already been fully set when I took my seat at the little round thing ; he sat at the opposite side.

"I see you took the liberty of preparing the plate for me," I said staring at it. There was enough food for a family of three on it.

"You don't need to eat the whole thing," he said tersely, "but you could use the nutrients."

"Thank you for concerning yourself with my health."

"You're welcome. Eat."

I picked up the fork with an inward sigh. I should have been more grateful—it looked delicious.

"I've had the swimming pool out back cleaned out for use," he announced offhandedly. "Tomorrow, after you've eaten, you should pick a chaise lounge and absorb some vitamin C. You're looking pale."

I stopped mid-chew, fork frozen halfway to my mouth. "So you're letting me out of the house, finally?"

"I never kept you locked in," he argued cutting into his chicken cutlet.

"Not personally, I suppose, but the electrified door handles certainly have."

"You never mentioned you wanted to go outside."

"And you aren't worried I'll run away?" I challenged. He took a big bite of his food before answering.

"The pool is surrounded by ten foot walls. There's a very thin layer of a very conductible metal at the top that I'm sure you wouldn't want to touch."

"You wouldn't know, I can be a very resourceful woman. I could scale that wall without getting electrocuted and escape. Then what?"

He paused to look up into my eyes with a hint of amusement. "Then what, indeed."

Heat rose to my cheeks as I sat up more straight in my chair. That stare was like an intense volt of electricity entering my system in itself. "You're doubting me again?"

He shrugged, returning his attention to his plate. "Despite every notion that fills your pretty little head when you walk around here plotting your daring schemes all day long," he goaded, "you fail to realize that no one is forcing you to stay here. I've not tied you up and chained you to the floor**—**you walk around here as freely and independently as you choose, which you choose not to."

It felt like a little ticking bomb was going off beneath my ribs.

I braced my hands on the table and leaned forward, lowering my voice to contain my very imminent eruption as I returned, "No one is forcing me to stay? Then why did you hold a gun to my throat the other day?"

"Because you were attempting to stab me," he shrugged again, continuing to eat his food as if this wasn't a very serious discussion. I could throttle him.

"The duct tape?" I hedged.

"I couldn't have you going back for something sharp with company over, could I? You could have very well flew off the handle and tried to stab your friend and I while we weren't looking."

"She is _not_ my friend! And if you could tell me why the fuck you would have me shipped all the way out here when you could, apparently give a shit if I left or not, that too would be much appreciated."

He shook his head. "Not my call. My job is to make sure you're breathing, and that's the extent of it. I'm not the man that brought you here, and I'm not the man you want answers from, Miss Swan."

"_Then who is?_"

"Your father."

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><p><strong>AN: And the wheel continues to spin round.**


	10. Chapter 10

10.

The world was beginning to take on a noticeable tilt in balance, as everything in my eyes skewed further and further away from normalcy.

"Is this meant to be some sort of joke? Because I don't find you very funny, Mr. Cullen."

"And nor were you meant to, Miss Swan, because this should be far from a laughing matter; for you anyway."

I couldn't be sure of myself at that moment, as I watched Cullen casually clear the rest of his meal from his plate. If he was lying, he was a phenomenal actor, because he was giving nothing away, but I couldn't fathom what to think if he was telling the truth. My mind had set off to running through all of the scenarios that came from either direction and it was as if there were a half wall's worth of blockade keeping me from advancing down the road that my father _was_ involved.

"Is it really so farfetched?" Cullen asked, intruding my thoughts, "You've seen you're little friend here not too long ago—Alice—and the thought of your father's relatedness is impossible to you?"

Queer as it seemed in my mind, his question actually sounded genuine. Cullen's eyes connected with mine as I looked up from the table. The only response I could muster was a shrug. I didn't know what to think right now, my thoughts were still inextricably tangled. I was grateful that he could see this, and without further prodding, got up from the table to clear our dishes. I hadn't finished, and I'm sure he could tell I probably wouldn't.

A few minutes passed by with the run of the tap as Cullen washed up, and he was back in his seat across from me shortly after. He hadn't bothered speaking, just kept his eyes on me.

I finally found a string of thought to begin unraveling with. "Are you extorting my father? For his and my mother's money?"

"No," he said with a shake of the head, eyes never leaving mine.

"Are you trying to lure my father out here? To kidnap he and I both?"

"No," he repeated, in the same fashion as before.

"Is this about money at all?"

"No."

"Is Alice behind any of this?"

"No."

"Is my mother involved?"

He paused at that, weighing his answer. "Yes."

"But money has nothing to do with it?"

"Not on my end, no."

"Whose end then?"

"I wouldn't have the jurisdiction to say."

I leaned back in my chair. "How honest are you being with me right now?" I demanded, and I was glad to have rediscovered some of the steel that I had lost for a while.

"As honest as I can be." Cullen leaned back as well, mirroring my posture. I scanned his face up and down trying to find anything to hint at untruth, and came up empty. I inhaled deeply, slow, and flattened my palm on my forehead. I pressed my fingers into my eyes as I faced the ceiling.

"Are we still in the mood for telling truths, Cullen?" I inquired. Multicolored circles began to spot against the black of my eyelids.

"That depends, I'd say."

"On what?"

"On what happens afterward."

I dropped my hands to the table and tapped my nails on the polished wood of the table, hesitating to meet Cullen's eyes, and swallowing thickly when I did. A moment passed.

"I want…" I stopped to clear my throat, taking hold of the tall glass that'd been put beside me—wine—and gulping it all down. It left a pungent, not-quite pleasant stain on my tongue, in my throat. "I need to know…"

"Yes?" he pressed, attention solely upon me. It was nerve wracking.

"Do you…work for my father, Cullen?"

His lips parted briefly, then closed as he looked intently between my eyes. His austerity hardened his manner. He straightened his back in his seat while stroking his thumb across his cheekbone, as if he were absently scratching it.

He rose then, still seeming somewhat conflicted on how to proceed. "Stay," he instructed, and for once I didn't challenge him. He returned in not too long, reclaiming his seat but seeming somewhat different. His face was blank, like a mask, and that told me I should progress warily.

"Well? Do you plan to answer me?"

Cullen gave a humorless chuckle as he pulled a smartphone out of his pocket. The little rectangular device was absolutely out of place to me here, and for good reason. I'd completely disconnected modern technology from a scenario like this, especially those that had communication with the world at the tap of a button. In a…more conventional setup like this, the kidnapper wouldn't even let the prisoner dream that there was some semblance of hope to leave. I almost didn't want to know what would make him bring this to my attention.

"I do," Cullen said with a nod, his gaze focused on the device in his hand. I watched the LCD light up across the contours of his profile as he powered it on. He tapped it a few times, gave me another brief glance, then set the phone down face-up on the table and slid it my way. I looked at it, confused, and froze as a sharp dial tone chirped in the air. I looked more closely at the screen as the tone stopped, and grabbed it up with clumsy speed as I saw the name of the contact.

A second later, and my father's unhurried greeting chimed in my ears.

"Daddy?"

A part of me was bothered by my reaction; angry at how greedily I clutched at the phone in my hands and how tight I pressed it to my face, despite that receiving audio came through the speaker. I was angry at the tears that seemed to stream quickly and endlessly down my cheeks, and I was angry at how panic had seeped into my cracking voice. I had managed, for so long, to be so strong, to not allow emotion to push me over, but the past weeks were spinning on the reel in my head.

The rage, the fear, the loneliness had all come clawing up my throat and sent vibration rocking from my core, and I was shaking with the force of it. I was reminded of myself when I was a child going to a new school, at how I blubbered needlessly, "Daddy! Daddy!" in the nurse's office until he was called to pick me up for the day.

His reaction hadn't changed from all those years ago. That made me cry harder. "It's okay, baby girl. Daddy's gotchya."

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> My apologies, y'all. The updates have and will continue to to be slowed down to sludge-pace. I have a lot going on at the moment and will be updating Tides at every available turn. Thank you for understanding. Until next time y'all!~


	11. Chapter 11

11.

_You just have to trust me. _

The slow burn of the island sun on my back was an alien sensation. The rays of UV soaking into my skin sent a warmth all through me, from my face to the toes. I'd been cooped up in the villa too long, Cullen and my father agreed.

My being indoors for so long had not come without its penalties. I moved slower, I hunched more. Stress was wearing thin on me; I just didn't feel my 26 years.

I spread out the towel I grabbed from my en-suite, and covered the length of the pool chair with it. I didn't dare tempt any fate by being anywhere near naked around Cullen, so I was dressed in an extra-large white t-shirt and dark shorts, underwear remaining underneath. Sun screen in hand, I squeezed a trail from one leg, up my body and over my arms, down to the other leg. It felt good to stretch.

A whistle sung from behind me. The sliding glass door to the sitting room closed and Cullen was at my side with a straw hat and tall glass. I tensed noticeably but continued on.

From my bent position I turned my head and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Vitamin C hydration," he imparted, placing the glass on the side table, "and a hat to keep you from staring at the sun."

"Excuse me?"

"You have a tendency to stare while you daydream," he said. I gave him a puzzled look and he shrugged. "I would rather not return you to your father mostly blinded."

"Let me guess; you plan to babysit me out here as well."

"Good guess. Yes I do."

I rolled my eyes, returning my attention to sun screening. "Scared I'll drown myself?"

"Merely taking a precaution to ensure you can't."

"If it makes you feel any better I won't be plotting an escape," and I meant it.

"I wouldn't recommend it. Electric fence remember? And with all of that wet, slippery skin you'd be asking to be crusted."

I paused to pass a glance at him. "Are you staying in those? That, I wouldn't recommend."

I climbed into the pool chair and dropped my head to the back of it, fitting into the curve of the taut whicker, my legs bent at the knees as I laid back. I squinted my eyes and peered up to see how far the sun had advanced.

"Why?" Cullen inquired, still beside me. "Hoping to check me out while I'm not watching?"

I would have rolled my eyes. "Since when are you not watching me?"

"Good point. I'll be a minute. Don't drown yourself."

I listened for retracting footsteps but heard none, and muttered under my breath, "Takes longer than a minute, jackass."

"I heard that; and I wouldn't put it past you." The glass doors opened and slid closed again.

Eventually I began to relax. I sighed as the tension sunk from shoulders, rolling my head left and right to hear those two satisfying cracks.

Not very long had passed when a shadow passed me, and I cracked my eyes open to the sight which was Cullen's surprisingly ripped torso. I'd never really gave him the credit for it, but what with the terror of this whole situation subsided, I was paying past dues. He had a sort of savage attractiveness to him; it was in the sharp arcs of his cheekbones, the jaggedness of his jaw, and, now, apparently in the contours of his abdominals and lines of his back.

He was good looking, but that was the extent of what I had to say about him. He ended the stretch, which ended my perusal, and pulled something out of his pocket. He was _tip-tapping _away on the slim phone in his hands, half turned to me, with a pair of sunshades on, a towel swung over his shoulder.

"I'd hate to interrupt," I called, "but you're blocking the sun."

His fingers paused, and his eyes shifted over to and across me. I didn't like that we were more aware of each other now, either. A grasp on the situation at hand made his presence seem more…temporary; less prudent. The casualness of how we looked at each other now bothered me.

"My apologies, princess." Dropping his towel over the head of his pool chair he sat beside me. He was still facing me, but went back to engrossing himself in his phone.

I fidgeted.

"What are you doing?"

Again his movements ceased automatically, and it was a moment before our eyes met. The corner of his mouth quirked up.

"Do I make you uncomfortable, Miss Swan?"

"Are you trying to?" I shot back.

"Not really, no. I was sending the day's report in to your father."

"You do that every day?"

"Not quite every day, but often. He worries, and with good reason." A small, nefarious grin lifted the corner of his mouth. "Not surprising, his daughter being on a remote island with a dangerous stranger and all."

I sat up a bit in my chair. If he was trying to unnerve me he was slightly succeeding.

"You know, saying things like that only knocks you down a few notches on the danger scale for me," I lied haughtily. "What kind of criminal goes singing his deeds to his hostages?"

"I wouldn't know," Cullen fired back, eyes sharp as a point as they found me through the tint of his shades. "Haven't had many hostages to sing to."

I took a step back mentally, recalling that I _wasn't _really a hostage anymore. The situation changed so quickly, so drastically, that I was still left grasping for what was what.

"Please don't forget that it was you who introduced yourself to me as a kidnapper, Cullen. What would make you say something like that if you didn't want to be painted the bad guy?"

"Probably me not wanting to explain myself out of a job."

I gave him a look. "I'm going to need a bit more than that."

He shrugged, tapping at the screen with crazy speed. I gave it a few minutes before I put Cullen in the hotseat.

When he finished he sighed and lifted the specs from his eyes, setting them in his hair. "Do you want to start or should I?"

"That depends." I reached for the drink on the end table and moistened my mouth. "How much can't you tell me?"

"We'll have to see where this takes us, now won't we?"

It was my turn to shrug.

Cullen cleared his throat and got comfortable. His demeanor changed in a second. "If you haven't figured it out by now," he started, his words clear and professional, "I work for your father, Mister Swan, and was given the task of protecting you here, in isolation, away from any current or impending danger that may befall you, for however long your father tells me to. Meaning, we could be here for the next few days, or we could be here for a month more or two. Regardless, you need to get used to me, because I'm not going anywhere for a while. Not until he tells me to."

My mouth felt very, very dry again. "Danger? Danger of what?"

"This is a very sensitive affair he has on his hands, your father," he explained. "One that he needed as little complications in as he could manage. This meant you being in the dark and him telling you nothing. In truth, the operation of getting you here was a knowledge passed between only a handful of individuals, Alice and myself included."

"The man whom you murdered," I interjected, "with a straight face wasn't in on it at all, I take it." My accusation came out like a hot prong, it burned in my throat, in my mind. The thought that the grunt who threw me into his van and sailed me out here was naught more than a disposable pawn made my stomach churn. I hated him in the time I was made to tolerate him, but finding out that his death was for my sake set me on unparalleled levels of discomfort.

"No, he wasn't in on the arrangement…because he _was _one of the dangers we were keeping you from."

The blood in my veins went cold. "Excuse me?"

"That man, had this all not been put together, _was_ meant to kidnap you. All those little scenarios that you dreamt up of happening most certainly would have, had I not been ready to intervene. He was not with us."

A flurry of emotions swelled within me. I dislodged my gaze from Cullen's and brought my glass to my mouth with jittering fingers.

"I never meant to dispatch Turo how I did, with you there, but seeing that he'd already put his hands on you, well…I made a personal decision there and then, one that your father chewed into me thoroughly for while also being grateful. That must have caused you a lot of stress I do owe you an apology, Miss Swan, for how all of that went down."

"Why," I stopped to clear my throat, to steady my slightly husky voice, "why was all this told to me only now? Do you know the hell that I've been through in the past…" I was losing count of the days.

"Eight days," he provided, impassive.

"Eight days," I echoed. "The hell that I've been through for eight days. And all because you couldn't tell me the second we got into the villa, when we have no one but ourselves to deal with."

Something comparable to remorse etched into his features. For a moment he seemed more human, relatable. His triceps flexed as if he were going to extend his arm towards me, but he folded his hands between his legs instead and looked past me for a moment.

"I wish this all could have gone differently for you Miss Swan, I really do." And that was probably as close to an, "_I'm sorry; I fucked up," _as I was going to get.

"What's done is done, I suppose." I wiped beneath either of my eyes quickly and dabbed beneath my nose with the edge of my t-shirt. Not the classiest but I was hardly one for presentations at the moment.

"My kudos to you, Miss Swan, for how valiantly you've taken all of this." He faced me straight on, his shadowy green eyes burrowing and pervading. "Your father is extremely proud of you for handling this the way you have; and whether you want to hear it or not, I admire the amount of pride you've had about you through all this as well. I'm thoroughly impressed. A bit stressed from it, but impressed."

Heat began to flush back through me, finally, and simmered in my cheeks. I turned away. "Well, it's not over yet, I would venture. Give me an estimate."

"As is, I'd say we're still looking at a couple of weeks until we can even consider moving you."

"You said that Turo had actually planned to steal away with me. How did he end up delivering himself into the lion's mouth?"

"The second we knew what was about to go down I was tasked with finding a way to circumvent the situation. The tricky thing was figuring out how to play around Turo. If we killed him before he got you, the person who hired Turo would know something went wrong if they heard nothing about you.

"So we had to let him catch his prey, tell his master, elude them into thinking everything was going to plan. For good measure I let the second man working with Turo—only mucscle—continue on as normal. He was pm;y there to help get you in the van. I infiltrated their embarrassingly weak relays, I played around with the destinations they had set for you, and I presented myself to Turo as the man he would further more be in contact with. It went off without a hitch; your father had me sailed out here two days before your arrival and I ended Turo before he could breathe to another soul."

"You're more intelligent than I've given you credit for," I confessed.

"Thank you?" His brow arched at my backhanded compliment. I pulled myself to the edge of the lounge chair and sat mirrored to him.

"You're welcome. So what's all this about my mother being involved?" I guess in an ideal world, my parents were working on all this danger business together, trying to keep me safe. But I knew my mother, and I knew that my half-assed theory was very wishful thinking.

It was a fast, notable change, and I watched it happen—Cullen was about to shut down on answers and lock me out. His expression hardened and told me nothing. "I think…you've had enough time out here by now actually. Don't need you catching any burns."

"I put on sunscreen," I said edgily, "so I think I'll be fine. Where does my mother play into this?"

Cullen rose from his chair and draped his towel over his shoulders again. He stretched, his body angled slightly away from me, and I knew I was not going to get anywhere else today. The need to demand answers, and arguably the most important ones from him, was bubbling beneath my skin, and I cursed myself for not having asked them sooner. I doubted that Cullen had simply grown tired of answering me so suddenly—he was hiding something from me.

I decided not to push. He was opening up already, it was only a matter of patience.

"Get inside. Alice has gone to the liberty of ordering us over some entertainment that way you don't go playing with the electric fences for fun. Should be here within the hour."

I scoffed, but found myself up, and collecting my things as well. "I'm not the only one trapped up here on this fucking island."

"No, you're not, but I have plenty of ways to amuse myself."

I unwaveringly ignored how that sounded.

"So," I trailed off as we walked back into the villa. The windows had been left open wide and sunlight stretched onto the polished wood in tall bright shadows. Cullen waited until I was further in to go behind me and shut the door. A little click chimed as he gave it his back. "About Alice…?"

"Don't be coy, Isabella." He took the glass and towel from my arm and went to the kitchen.

"Conversely, don't be an ass." I lounged on the sofa nearest the windows, watching Cullen tarry across the room. "Tell me about Alice."

Even from here I could see the muscle of his shoulder raise and drop again. Honestly, it was a trait that made me want to deck him every time. "Well obviously if I work for your father, and Alice is here, and I've mentioned her in my anecdote, you could gather that she works for your father, too. Like you've always known she has."

"Don't get cute, Cullen. We can finish what we started last week, no problem." I was only half joking.

He turned to me with a grin that kind of knocked me on my ass a little. "Anytime you're ready, Miss Swan."

I did not know where I stood on my mysterious host now. Or any of this for that matter.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> With more answers are bred more questions. Hope you've enjoyed :) Until next time!


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